Looks Like Rain - къщичка в къта на Крис

When I went to a talk by Milan Knazko, one of the faces of the Slovak Velvet revolution of 1989, I expected to see an inspired man; a man whose political dreams had come true and who was remembering the battles of yesterday with pride. More importantly, I was looking to see a man who still believed in his cause and whose principles were guiding him in the same way that they used to when he was speaking in front of the indignant crowds, tired of a Soviet regime that restricted their freedoms and caged their spirits. And I did meet a man who remembered the glorious past of righteous fights for freedom, who was proud of how he stood up to a government that was doing anything to remain in power, and how he inspired others to do it.

So when I asked him what would he say to Bulgarian students that are fighting for the lives that they want and the democracy that they believe in today, like he did 24 years ago, his answer caught me by surprise. I expected him to say a few encouraging words; to congratulate us for being the socially aware and active young people that he was encouraging all of us in the lecture hall to be. Or perhaps a word of warning, that sometimes we will be offered deals that will compromise us. Or a word of advice, coming from his own experience. Instead I heard him say:

Now is not time for protests and revolutions.

No, there is no inspirational follow up to this. The revolutionaries of yesterday are telling us to stay quiet. And it's not because they think that all is fine with the current state of affairs – Knazko himself pointed out in one excellently coined phrase the current state of affairs in many Eastern European countries, a 'partocracy' whereby the regular citizen exercises their sovereignty once every four years and are devastated with the result of every election, seeing as the political elite rules at the expense and in spite of the voters. How is that not a time for protests and revolutions?

Mr Knazko, and I would guess many others, are vainly reserving the right of grand change for themselves and the times when in their own views it was clear who was 'us' and 'them' and consequently who can claim the virtues of democracy and legitimacy to their side. In a democratic system, he told me, things are always going to be complicated, different interests are always going to be at play. An opposition can never be united in a democratic system, as there is no pure monumental evil to oppose. And without a unified opposition, there is no chance for large-scale change. But this, in Mr Knazko's words was not a critique of democracy. It was an inevitable asset of it, a complication that does not make it any less virtuous and does not give us the right to protest and revolt.

My response to Milan Knazko's words is simple. We deserve the life we want, the politicians who represent us, the political system that will make our future what we wish it to be. Just like you did back then. And while we will always be grateful to our parents for fighting for the freedoms we sometimes take for granted today, we will not let their sentimental attachment to a system that despite its virtues, has its flaws, to stop us from casting a future for ourselves. I was almost crushed by the critical, discouraging response to my question. I find it sadistically ironic that a great symbol of revolutions passed would so blatantly defend a status quo that he himself sees as flawed. The vicious cycle of legitimate by count of votes, but practically useless, corrupt, and power-hungry governments deserves to be protested. In fact, it seems like the only way to get them out.

If I learned one thing today, it is that the heroes of yesterday can oh so easily become the tyrants of tomorrow, reprimanding the youth of today for disturbing their status quo. And we, the heroes of today, should learn from them, but never let them tell us what to do with our own future.